More Than He Was
by Decidedly Average
Summary: "Once, back then, they were so close they could have been lovers. Now, they hadn't spoken in over 21 months." - Nikki learns that patience is a virtue and a newly crowned professor even surprises himself. Follow-on story from 'Less Than He Is' T rating for a bit of naughtiness!


**Good evening all! **

**Hope everyone had a spiffing Christmas!**

**This has been floating around in my head for a while so I thought I'd whap it out. Not sure it's quite what I wanted but I've been looking at it ages and I feel its time to move on!**

**This is a follow on from a one-shot I did, 'Less Than He Is'. Remember it? Good. Continue. Don't remember it? I think you'd be best to go back and have a wee read of it, just so you're not confused!**

* * *

"_Nikki?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_I've just had a call. The pathology department of New York Central want you to go over there and give a lecture on staircase falls. .._

He can't help smiling slightly, partly with excitement, partly in disbelief at how bizarre and unconventional the whole thing is.

If he wanted her, surely flowers and chocolates, maybe a nice card would suffice. Not an all expenses 'professional' trip to New York City.

…_what shall I tell them?"_

A smile. And the clouds in her eyes clear to reveal the glistening stars beneath. He doesn't see though. She's still facing her computer.

Jack can see her though, with his eyes darting from her to his boss, dumfounded at this secret code they seem to have adopted.

"_You can tell them yes…"_

* * *

"_So, let me get this straight. I'm working all weekend and Monday so you can swan off to New York to have a jolly with the guy I replaced?"_

She couldn't keep him in the dark about this. At some point in the last 16 months she has grown inexplicably attached to her cheeky, overly confident younger colleague.

"_It's for work."_

"_Yeah, right, you'll be getting it on before the seatbelt lights gone off!"_

"_Stop it!"_

He likes to wind her up. It's always been the best part of his job. She makes it too easy sometimes.

He watches from his desk. What used to be _his_ desk, as she floats around in an almost see-through white blouse and checks and double checks that she has everything.

"_Passport?"_

She looks up at him and gives him a withering look, though he's known her long enough to know there's a smile somewhere behind it.

"_Yes, Dr Hodgeson."_

"_Phone?"_

"_Yes…"_

She places one last file in the briefcase and he supresses a smile as she does so. They both know she's not intending to do much work on this trip.

"_Condoms?"_

"_Oh shut up!"_

He can't hold it in any longer and he laughs out loud as she throws her empty take-away coffee at him, drags her briefcase from her desk and springs through the glass doors.

* * *

Her flight is pleasant. She makes the most of it, people watching at the airport, taking in the amazing views above the clouds, stopping, eyes closed, to savour that first rush of stifling heat when she steps out of the airport at the other side.

She is surprised to find a driver – with a very expensive looking car – waiting with a sign to pick her up.

She is taken to an upmarket hotel in the centre of town, where she checks in, only to find everything has already been paid for, even the little fridge in the room. The room itself is spacious and on the top floor with tremendous views and gold taps and a rich, indulgent colour scheme.

She unpacks. Then she doesn't really know what to do. She can't remember the last time she had some time to herself. Things had only just started to settle down at the Lyell. Jack had settled in and the three of them had become an efficient, functioning team. Before then, at times it had been frustrating, tiring, aggravating, having to pick up the pieces after _he _left. There were moments when she hated him for doing what he did. To her, to Leo…

And yet…here she was…

For a while she stands, watching out of the window and stays mesmerised for nearly an hour. The city below her, she has seen so many times in movies and tv programmes it barely seems real. The bright, colourful lights enamour her. The way the whole landscape seems to glow is almost magical, welcoming. It is like looking out into the land of dreams, it is almost as if she could close her eyes and make a wish and it would come true, there and then. How wonderful it is that it should be _him_, to lead her to such a magical place.

There is a knock at the door.

She hasn't locked the door yet, it's only just gone nine, so she calls for them to enter.

And suddenly, there he is.

She imagined their reunion so many times. Truth be told, for the last 2 years sometimes it's been the only thing keeping her going. She often imagines throwing herself at him and holding him for minutes, hours, days, in which he holds her equally as tight, as if he's never going to let go.

But she's a scientist.

She knows that isn't certainty.

Attraction, desire, need, love, are just chemicals, after all.

In reality, they just stand and look at each other for a few painfully awkward minutes. It's a little bit disappointing when he doesn't come towards her straight away.

"_Hi."_

"_Hey."_

Soon, she can't stand his gaze any longer and turns instead to look at an interesting bit of carpet directly to her right.

Neither of them pretends it isn't _odd_. Once, back then, they were so close they could have been lovers. Now, they hadn't spoken in over 21 months.

"_Did you, did you have a good journey?"_

"_Good, yes, thanks."_

The room descends into silence again. She almost resents how useless he's being. _Why has he never been able to just do it, say it, kiss her?_ Small talk was no use to them now. He had left her, two years ago with a kiss. A far-from-platonic kiss. A kiss that still burns her lips and twists her stomach and excites her heart. And now he's asked for her, to come here, to him. _And she came_.

_What else could that possibly mean?_

She's sick of the silence. So she thinks of what she would have said to him, had he given her a chance, all those months ago. It ends up being three simple words, three words that would change everything. Forever. Irreparable.

"_I was awake."_

"_Oh. Was there turbulence?"_

"_No. I mean I was awake, before. In my bedroom."_

"_I knew that."_

"_Oh."_

She can feel a blush rising on her cheeks and she turns back to the window in the hope that he doesn't spot it.

"_Are you hungry?"_

"…_sort of."_

"_Do you want to have dinner? With me? Now?"_

"_I don't know…I don't even know if I want to be here."_

"_Why?"_

"_Well if you knew I was awake why did you leave?"_

"_Because you never said anything back, Niks. I assumed you weren't y'know, into it."_

"_Are you a complete idiot?"_

She can't help but laugh bitterly at the sheer ridiculous of the situation. Had she not been obvious? Perhaps she had been _too_ obvious? She thinks back to all the looks she ever gave him, the smiles, the touches, how could he have ever interpreted it as anything less than what it was?

"_No, but I'm a coward."_

Another painful silence.

"_I don't want to go for dinner. I want you to close that door and come in here and I want us to talk about this."_

In her wildest dreams she had imagined that _he _would be the one to take control. But in her wildest dreams, he would pull her to him and kiss her fervently and they were on a beach in South Africa – of all places.

And that wasn't going to happen either.

So she tries her upmost to conjure up a poker face, her _meeting face _as it were. The one she uses with stubborn detectives and cold-hearted killers. If they were to be productive at all tonight, she would have to lead him, and she hadn't sat on a plane for the best part of a day to tip-toe around on eggshells.

"_What do you want, Harry?"_

"_Why did you come?"_

"_Don't change the subject. What do you want?"_

For a moment, he looks at her, exasperated, and it's almost as if they've never been apart. He sits for a moment, her words bouncing around in his head before flicking a switch, and he makes a decision.

"_You. I want you."_

She swallows.

"_There's no staircase falls, is there?"_

"_Not one."_

In sync, they turn to one another and their half-laughs emerge from nowhere, as if elicited by their own ability to be so in tune with each other. For him, it's the realisation of how ridiculous this was; he had to make up a story, just to get her to come all the way out here, so that he could tell her what he could have told her the day they met. For her, its relief. Relief that nothing has changed. That he is still the same, cheeky, Harry, and she is still the same completely infatuated Nikki.

He's sitting on the edge of her bed now, and involuntarily she takes three and a half steps towards him, lifting one leg to kneel on the mattress beside him and her hands rise to cup his face. And she kisses him.

And that's when they _really _reunite.

The kiss is light, polite almost, to start with, but he lays his hands on her hips and pulls her closer. Her sigh against his mouth is the sweetest sound and he takes advantage of her open mouth, deepening their kiss.

It peters out and she rests her forehead on his, before they envelope each other in a warm hug, and she's on his knee, crying, her lips pressed to his neck and it's his turn to sigh.

"Oh my _God, I've missed you."_

Somehow, this is the exact opposite of how either of them had imagined it to be. She always thought their final admission, surrender would be rushed, hot, heavy and - actually - more than a little embarrassing. But instead it is almost like being held in the arms of an estranged parent...on in some ways, of course. His arms are so tightly around her and she has exhaled onto his bare skin and suddenly it is as if he is the only thing that has ever mattered, the only thing keeping her alive. She can feel the love he feels for her; the relentless, unconditional love and it comforts her...to know she was never alone in this. Her voice is muffled, spoken into his skin – which still smells the same as it always did.

"_Why did you leave?"_

"_This…this was just something I had to do, Nikki. I had to do this and I had to experience it, and I'm glad I did. Because it's made me braver, I feel like, I'm more than I ever was. It's made me certain of what I want. I'm ready, now."_

She looks up then.

"_For what?"_

He doesn't answer. Instead he kisses her. Firmly this time. It only lasts a split second, but when he pulls away her eyes remain on his lips and then she's kissing him again, quickly and hungrily, like she's never kissed anyone before, like she can't get enough of him.

* * *

It's later, much later.

Nothing drastic has changed, except the room is a bit steamier and they are both a bit warmer.

But they're still scientists. They are well aware that there would be no imploding of worlds or earth shatterings or head spinnings. They are not hopeless romantics. They are rationalists. Most of the time.

They are the same as they have always been…

…only with faster breathing and _a lot _less clothes.

Neither of them are new to this. Some would even call them veterans. They had been around a bit, they knew the ropes. This was never going to be a big deal. It was a natural thing.

And yet, the irony is that neither of them know quite what to say. After _that._

He decides, however, that speechless or not, they have sat listening to each other's ragged breath for long enough.

"_Wow."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Wow."_

"_I know."_

"_You. You're really good at that."_

"_You're not too bad yourself…"_

"_I almost feel like we should high-five or something…"_

And she bursts into fits of laughter, rolling around under the duvet, with her rosy cheeks, she is possibly the most wonderful thing he has ever seen.

"_Yeah, I think as a team we're quite good at this."_

"_Imagine if this was an Olympic-"_

"_Ok Harry, I get your point."_

She calms down and lowers herself back down to the mattress, with her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"_Nik?"_

"_Mhhmm?"_

"_If I hadn't left, do you think we would have got to this point."_

He can't see her face, only her hair, in which one hand is gently entangled, but if he could he would see her eyes widen and then narrow, as if she were deep in thought.

"_I don't really know, hadn't thought about it like that."_

* * *

Leo isn't really sure what surprises him more.

The fact that she is back when she said she would be.

Or that she came back at all.

He wonders at first if it's a bad sign. Four days after her departure, she's back, and she's on time.

But there is something different about her that makes him doubt himself, its perhaps the way she holds herself, not _much _different than before, but lighter somehow, as if she were being carried by a light consistent breeze.

It gives him the feeling that perhaps things went well.

Perhaps a little _too well._

He watches from the safety of his office as she takes her seat opposite Jack and Clarissa rolls her eyes and swiftly leaves the room.

"_So?"_

"_So, what?"_

"_Spill."_

"_Dunno what you're talking about…"_

He assumes, judging by Jack's 'huffy' expression, that she's not up for telling _anyone,_ and although it galls him slightly, he leaves her be, but is especially flattered when she seeks him out later in the cutting room. He is tidying up and she is ready to go home, wrapped up in a brown leather jacket and a soft scarf.

"_Got anywhere to be after this?"_

He shakes his head at her.

"_Fancy going out for a drink?"_

This time he shakes his head at her in a cynical sense laughing slightly as he does so.

"_Come on, Nikki. Out with it."_

"_I'm not sure I even know where to start, Leo."_

"_Judging by that I take it your visit was good?"_

"_Better than good…"_

She's beginning to drift and he can see her eyes glazing over as she relaxes her shoulders and her head falls slightly to the side, her front teeth scratch at her bottom lip as she dreams.

"_Right then. No gory details please. I just want to know you're okay."_

"_He's a good man, Leo."_

"_Supposedly. That doesn't mean I don't worry about you."_

Then there is a comfortable silence. It is an almost anti-climatic occasion for him. He watched their relationship blossom for the best part of a decade and when it does finally happen, there is nothing to show for it, until he realises the reason for this.

_They don't even live in the same continent. _

Which poses the question:

"_What happens now?"_

"_Well, his contract finishes at the end of this academic year…"_

"_Are you going to ask him to come back?"_

As if telepathically, they both remember the conversation the two of them shared, almost a year and a half ago now and he sees his own sadness reflected in her eyes and he already know her answer. It was hidden in the words she spoke to him all those months ago, when he still had her…when he thought he would always have her.

"_You know I won't."_

_I could never ask him to be less than he is._

And with that she kisses him goodnight on the cheek and leaves.

Nothing is certain, he knows that much. She may stay and he may come back, she may leave and he may never hear from either of them again. Either way, he can't supress the smile on his face as he begins again to busy himself. Even if his greatest sorrows are realised and she follows him to America and leaves the Lyell for good, their whole story re-ignites his belief in magic, romance, fairytales. They are meant to be together and be together they will be. He feels suddenly enriched, empowered. More than he ever has been. He even feels like phoning Harry to ask him why on Earth he let her get back on the damn plane.

* * *

**Thought I owed you this, I do a lot of angst all the time and over the past year I have caused you a lot of pain, so this is to say sorry!**

**Hope you enjoyed, please drop me a wee review (and perhaps we can all do summersaults with excitement about the new series together!)**

**D.A. xxxx**


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